“All the makeup and the clothes. I wouldn’t be able to keep up. I hardly know how to do makeup as it is.”
“I think you look spectacular.”
“You know you don’t have to keep complimenting me,” she said with a grin.
“I only say it if I mean it. No use in telling false tales in order to get to a perceived outcome.”
“What in the world does that mean?” she asked.
“Men compliment women because they’re looking for only one thing. They don’t care what they say so long as they get what they came for. For some men, it’s sex. For other men, it’s money.”
“Men compliment women for money?”
“Rich women, sure. Men can gold dig as much as women can.”
“Well, aren’t you just a shining ball of positivity.”
I grinned down at her as she giggled and shook her head.
“Care to dance?” I asked.
“I don’t think the families are done dancing yet,” Libby said.
“I didn’t mean on the dance floor.”
“Then where in the world are we going to dance?”
I offered my hand to her and she looked at it quizzically. I wiggled my fingers as I stood from my chair, prompting her to take my hand. I helped her up from her seat and spun her into me, her soft body plodding recklessly into mine.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m kind of a clutz in heels.”
“Don’t wear them often?” I asked as I held her hand in the air.
“Not really. The only pairs of heels I own are the ones I’ve bought for weddings like this.”
“How many weddings have you been to?” I asked.
“Eighteen.”
“You’ve been to eighteen weddings?!?”
“In the past three years, yeah,” she said.
“Sounds like someone’s more popular than she leads on,” I said as I slipped my arm around her waist.
“That’s usually people’s reaction. Only three of them have been actual friends. One from work and two from high school. The rest are family functions like this.”
“Ah, obligatory invitations. I get those sometimes.”
“For weddings?” she asked.
“Weddings. Parties. Charity balls.”
“Nope. No parties, and certainly no charity balls. Just weddings for me.”
“Don’t worry. You're not missing anything. It’s only more dressing up, putting on a smile, and pretending you want to be there,” I said.
“You’re a cheery old soul, aren’t you?” she asked.